


where the love light gleams

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, F/M, now contains spoilers for the 2016 christmas special, twelve christmases on darillium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: A collection of connected stories about twelve different Christmases the Twelfth Doctor spent with River Song.





	1. first christmas

**Author's Note:**

> First prompts: First Christmas on Darillium + peppermint schnapps
> 
> Story title from I'll Be Home For Christmas.

Darillium is a dry planet, made up of red desert and rock and quite a lot of stars. On Christmas day – their very first day of twenty-four years – there isn’t a hint of snow in sight. The evening air is warm and River had shed her feathered stole hours ago during the second course. It doesn’t feel even a bit like Christmas and that just won’t do at all.

 

It’s their first proper Christmas on this planet and the Doctor wants it to be a memorable one – white and merry and bright all that other rubbish that makes up the holiday. Luckily for him, the Old Girl seems to agree. As they slip into the TARDIS at the end of the night, River’s hand clasped snugly in his and hearts-stopping promise glittering in her eyes, the air is positively frigid.

 

River shudders, slipping her hand from his to wrap her arms around herself. She watches her breath mist in the air and glances toward the console. “Sweetie, I think the heating’s broken.”

 

“So it is,” he muses, trailing behind her and bestowing his ship with a grateful wink. Around them, the Old Girl hums in amusement and promises to keep this secret between them for once. “You should change into something more comfortable.”

 

She turns on her heel, smirking. “Something warm or something sexy?”

 

The Doctor lifts an eyebrow. “Anything you wear is bound to be sexy, dear.”

 

“Good answer.” She trails her fingertips teasingly down his cravat, slipping just out of reach when he tries to touch her. “I’ll meet you in the den. Be a good boy and get me something to drink?”

 

She doesn’t wait for an answer and the Doctor finds himself staring after her with a ridiculous grin long after she’s disappeared down the corridor. It’s only a gentle, exasperated nudging from the TARDIS that makes him move again. He starts from his reverie, bites back the embarrassing smile on his face, and heads for the den. His ship has a plethora of dens but he knows the one River means. Her favorite. The one they always seclude themselves in when they want to spend some time alone on board.

 

He hasn’t been inside the room in years but it’s just as he remembers it. Small and cozy, with a massive fireplace and comfy furniture that he fondly remembers lounging on with his wife, whiling away whole afternoons. Bookshelves line the walls, stuffed with their favorites – human and alien literature, history books, and poetry, Gallifreyan one of many among them. The drinks cart is a bit dusty but he wipes away the age with the sleeve of his coat, amused to find a bottle of peppermint schnapps.

 

“Very funny,” he mutters to his ship, and pours two glasses.

 

He sees to the fire next, nursing it until it’s high and crackling, filling the room with heat and the scent of burning wood. The lights are dim and the TARDIS provides them with a window that isn’t really there, giving them a view of a snow-covered landscape. Thick, fat flakes of it fall heavy and stick to the windowpane.

 

To distract himself from his missing wife, the Doctor piles blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the fire in hopes of making an inviting nest that River will approve of. He feels ridiculous, fretting over every little detail like a mother hen without chicks to tend to, but it’s their first night together. He wants it to be perfect.

 

He starts to doubt whether that will be possible when River finally wanders into the den, pale and quiet. He rises from his crouch beside the fire and takes a concerned step toward her, barely noticing her attire. Rather adorably, she’s dressed in little else but one of his shirts and a pair of fuzzy socks but he can’t even enjoy it when she looks so troubled.

 

“River?”

 

She glances up and blinks, like she hadn’t even noticed she’d made it back to the den. “Hmm?”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

She avoids his probing gaze and murmurs, “My things.”

 

It isn’t quite an answer but satisfied it’s nothing serious, the Doctor moves to fetch her drink and hopes she’ll come up with something a little more explanatory in the meantime. “Did you have trouble finding our room? You know how the Old Girl likes to move things about when you’ve been away too long. Just tell her you missed her and she’ll put it all to rights.”

 

“No.” River worries her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes still worryingly far away. “It was… everything was -”

 

Venturing close again but his hands now too full of drinks to touch her, the Doctor asks encouragingly, “What?”

 

Shaking her head, River forces a smile. “Never mind. Not important.”

 

She reaches for her drink and the Doctor lets her take it from him, watching her sniff it and then take a sip. “Everything you say is important. Tell me.”

 

“It’s nothing.” She smiles wider but he sees right through her. He always has. Just because sometimes he was a selfish prat who ignored it for his own comfort doesn’t mean he never saw the pain behind that too-bright grin. “Ooh, look at that fire. Haven’t lost your touch, have you, darling?”

 

“River,” he says, low and firm but vastly patient.

 

He’ll wait if he has to and River seems to hear it in his voice because she sighs and takes another long drink. Her shoulders drop and she discards the smile entirely. Looking anywhere but at him, she explains herself. “Everything was right where I left it.”

 

His brow furrows. “Of course it was. Where else would it be?”

 

She shrugs, studying her drink. “It’s clearly been longer for you than it has been for me. I just assumed you would have packed it all away and -”

 

“No.” The fervency in his voice startles them both and they finally look each other in the eye, hovering so near one another and clutching their drinks so they don’t reach out and touch. “It’s your room too, River. Always.”

 

Her smile returns but it’s genuine now, wobbly around the edges. “You still sleep there? And look at my things every day?” She shakes her head, seemingly puzzled. “You, the man who never looks back?”

 

The Doctor clenches his jaw, setting aside his drink. It’s just another barrier and he’s tired of those, especially between him and River. “This me doesn’t like to forget. Terrified of it, actually. Got a bad habit this go round.”

 

“Oh?” River lifts an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sounds like there’s a story in there somewhere, Doctor.”

 

“There always is.” He smiles and lets the hazy memories of his last companion go because the story before him now is clear and bright and the best one yet. The best one he’ll ever tell. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it someday.”

 

River hums, swaying toward him, and her eyes are so soft that for once he feels like he could fall into them without hurting himself on the way down. “We’ve got a warm fire and all the time in the world. Why not now?”

 

“Because, River Song,” he says quietly, never moving his eyes from hers as he takes her drink and sets it beside his. He replaces the glass with his hands, drawing her close. “There are quite a few other things I’d rather be doing in front of a warm fire with you.”

 

River tips her head up to accept his kiss eagerly, her eyes very nearly luminescent before she shuts them, and the Doctor lets himself fall. She tastes like peppermint schnapps and wasted years and he can’t think of one reason not to give her everything. He doesn’t hold back, cradling her face in his hands. He takes from her greedily but he gives with just as much generosity, filling her mind and her hearts until there can be no doubt that she is loved loved loved.

 

There is no restraint in this kiss, unlike the slow and tender ones they’d shared on the balcony. Now there’s no reason to stop – no restaurant full of people to hear her scream, no robot with Ramone’s head lurking behind the topiaries. Just the Doctor and River Song, finally alone at last.

 

River looks absolutely delighted when their mouths finally part, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining. Grinning broadly, she licks her lips and purrs, “My, so forward.” She strokes his chest and he struggles not to preen, gratified to have her approval after chasing it all night. “I think I’m going to like this face.”

 

“Much more than the face, I hope,” he mumbles, and swallows River’s laughter in another kiss. They sink onto the blankets by the fire and undress each other in a tangle of limbs, far too reluctant to part. He leaves River’s red fuzzy socks on her feet and tells her when she protests, “Don’t want you getting cold feet.”

 

“Perhaps you should wear them then.” River wraps her legs around his waist and sighs breathily as he ducks his head to mouth eagerly at her breast. “Twenty-four years is a long time.”

 

He lifts his head but doesn’t meet her eyes, studying the red mark he’d sucked onto the inside of her left breast instead. “Not long enough,” he admits gruffly, and River cards her fingers through his hair.

 

“Nothing ever is,” she whispers. “But let’s make the best of it anyway, darling.”

 

He takes his time, worried it will all end far too quickly if he doesn’t. He hasn’t been with anyone in this body and even his last body knew no one but River. It’s been so long since then he wants to reacquaint himself with her again – learning anew where and how she likes to be touched. He remembers that her knees are ticklish and that her thighs are so sensitive all he has to do is breathe on them to make her quiver. Along the way, he discovers a few new things as well – like the way she shudders when he sinks his teeth into her hipbone and that when he tugs on her hair, her eyes darken and her lips part in silent desire.

 

River tightens her thighs around him when he finally sinks inside her, her eyes dark and wild as she stares up at him. Her curls spill across her pillow and tumble into her eyes when she moves with him, the firelight making each spiral glisten. The light plays beautifully against her honeyed skin, casting her in reds and oranges and making her resemble some ancient, earthen goddess. He wants to pay homage to her and worship at her altar before he remembers he’d put her on a pedestal through their whole marriage and the only thing it ever accomplished was making him forget how very human she really was.

 

Never again.

 

No matter how perfect she looks and how lovely she feels under him and against him and around him, River Song is no goddess. She is a flawed and vulnerable creature who makes mistakes and runs when she’s scared and tends to shoot first and ask questions later. She wants to be loved and cared for more than she will ever admit and by some divine miracle, she is his to cherish. And he will. But he will never again make her his savior.

 

The Doctor presses his face into the hollow of her throat and feels River’s pulse race against his cheek. It’s with delight that he realizes he still remembers the signs of her impending release. He can feel how close she is in the beating of her hearts and hear it in the ragged cries she directs at the ceiling.

 

Her nails dig into his skin and her hot breath against his hair makes him shudder. Her skin is sticky with sweat against his and the heat between her thighs is so slick it’s a bloody fucking miracle he hadn’t come all over her the moment she spread her legs. She’s tight and clenching around him now, still not quite where he needs her to be. Not quite where he is.

 

The Doctor grits his teeth and pulls out, ignoring River’s inventive cursing as he ducks out of her arms and between her thighs. Her voice catches as he sucks her clit into his mouth, nothing emerging from her throat but a shocked, guttural moan. She threads her fingers through his hair and her fuzzy red socks tickle his skin when she throws her legs over his shoulders.

 

His cock aches, heavy and throbbing between his legs, but it’s easy to forget his own desire when River is writhing so wantonly against his face. Thighs tight around his head like he might dare leave her wanting again, she rolls her hips and moans when his tongue laps at her entrance. She’s swollen and dripping and the taste of her sex mingles with the peppermint schnapps still on his tongue.

 

It’s such a heady combination that he almost doesn’t pull away when River’s cries turn sharp and her fingers tighten in his hair. She’s right on the edge and he forces himself to tear his mouth from her sex, leaning up to kiss her quiet. He wants to come with her tonight, not after her and rutting against her thigh like a randy teenager.

 

When he sinks into her again, it’s somehow even better than it had been the first time. River’s body flutters wetly around him, grasping at his cock just as hungrily as her hands gripping him to her. “If you stop again,” she threatens, her voice somehow still dangerous even heavy with sex. “I swear to god, Doctor -”

 

He smirks against her cheek and promises, “Not a chance, dear.”

 

Fingers digging into her thighs and hips pumping against hers, he’s mere moments from losing control but this time River is right there with him. Arms and legs and cunt wrapped tight around him, she throws her head back and speaks his real name, letting him hear it for the first time in centuries. The Doctor follows right after her, his eyes stinging with relief and nostalgia and so much love not even two hearts can possibly hold it all. He’ll need hers too. Four hearts might be just enough.

 

When the universe stops spinning around him, the Doctor emerges from euphoria with his head on River’s chest and her breathless laughter in his ears. She stretches languidly beneath him and when he peers at her face, she’s radiating an aura of smugness. Eyes narrowing, he asks hoarsely, “What’s so funny?”

 

“Doctor, dear,” she replies, still grinning. “You’re quite the screamer.”


	2. the christmas goddess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a group around River, settled on the bench beside her and crowded around her, pressing as close as they can. He might have been worried if they weren’t all such wee things – little boys and girls staring at River like she’s the Queen of bloody England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: River is mistaken for Darillium's Christmas goddess by a group of kids.

Mornings on Darillium look just the same as the nights but the stars and the street lamps shine a little brighter, lighting the way for the world as it stumbles about in the dark. It’s still early but are people out and about, frantic in their last minute Christmas gift scramble. The Doctor had gotten River’s present weeks ago but he’d forgotten a little something extra. He can hardly give her a new diary without a new pen to write with, can he?

 

River had insisted on coming with him but he refuses to let her into the store with him, glaring at her when she tries to follow. “Stay here.”

 

“But sweetie -”

 

“Shut it.” He taps her lips with a fingertip, smirking when she kisses it in response. “No hints, no spoilers. You’ll ruin the surprise.”

 

She huffs. “I’m hardly a child, Doctor. I don’t see why -”

 

“Bench.” He narrows his eyes, pointing to the spot over her shoulder. “Now.”

 

She crosses her arms over her chest but her lips curl into a smile despite herself. “I do love it when you go all commanding on me.” She shivers, leaning into him and bringing with her the scent of honeysuckle shampoo and candy canes. “Makes a girl weak in the knees.”

 

“Is that so?” He smirks, meeting her halfway and letting his nose brush hers. It’s only their third Christmas together on Darillium but he’s already eons more comfortable about invading her personal space. Even in public. “Well in that case, I want your word that you’re going to sit on that bench like a good girl – don’t steal anything or shoot anything or otherwise cause any sort of trouble that would make spending the next two decades here awkward.”

 

“Or what?” Her eyes gleam with mischief. “Will you spank me, darling?”

 

“If you’re good.” He waggles his brows at her and she laughs, leaning in to kiss him soundly. He doesn’t let her linger, knowing that if she has her way she’ll make him so dizzy and intoxicated on her he’ll agree to anything – even letting her into the store with him. “Sit. I’ll be back soon.”

 

He lingers outside the sweets shop, peering into the window, until River huffs and turns her back to retreat to the bench he’d pointed out. The moment she isn’t looking, the Doctor ducks next door to the shop he really wants to go to.

 

Once inside, he’s dismayed to find that the bustling crowds are even here. Who would have thought a vintage stationery store would be so popular? Human colonies. Always so nostalgic. Not that he can blame them. He’s been feeling rather nostalgic himself lately.

 

The Doctor squares his shoulders and tightens his jaw, pushing through the masses in search of the perfect pen. It takes him ages to locate the right aisle and he spends this time vowing to himself that if he hears Santa Baby once more he will get in his TARDIS, find whoever wrote it, and personally ensure they are never born.

 

When he finds the pens, he spends several minutes staring between a self-filling fountain pen and a bomb-proof, water-proof, and fire-proof pen, debating which one River would like better. On the overhead speakers, Santa Baby switches to Mr. Grinch and the Doctor shuts his eyes, gathering his patience.

 

He reaches for the fountain pen. It will never run out of ink and he hopes River will understand the symbolism behind such a gift. No matter how many pages are left in her diary, there are always stories left to tell.

 

At the same time the Doctor reaches for the pen, another hand snatches it from the shelf. “Oi!” He turns to glare at the offending person, finding himself staring at a short fellow in an ugly Christmas jumper. “That’s mine.”

 

The man blinks at him. “It was on the shelf.”

 

“Well I was about to pick it up.” He holds out his hand expectantly. “It’s a gift for my wife. Hand it over.”

 

“I’m sure your wife would be just as happy with any other pen.” The man clutches River’s pen to his chest, squashing it against that atrocious jumper. “In case you haven’t realized where you are, there are plenty of pens to choose from.”

 

“But not that one,” the Doctor says, staring at it longingly. “I need that one.”

 

The man snorts, his grubby hands tightening around the slender pen box. “Why?”

 

“Because it’s bloody symbolic,” the Doctor snaps, taking a step forward.

 

“Whoa, take it easy.” The man stumbles back a step, his grip on the pen loosening in his surprise. “Look, I’m sorry but I need this pen too -”

 

“All right.” The Doctor glares, rummaging through his pockets. “I hate to do this, really. I prefer to keep a low profile but you’ve given me no choice.” With a flourish, he produces his psychic paper from his coat pocket and flips it open. “There, see? I hope you’ll understand now that I need that pen far more than you do.”

 

The man leans in, squinting at it, and reads, “Village grump?”

 

“What?” The Doctor turns the paper over, growling under his breath. “It was supposed to say Charles Dickens XXI, bloody useless -” He tucks it away again, setting his jaw. “Fine. You win. Keep it.” He widens his eyes, pointing over the man’s shoulder. “Oh dear _god_ , would you look at that?”

 

The man turns warily to glance over his shoulder and the Doctor springs into action, snatching the pen from his grip and ducking into the crowd. He barely hears the other man’s cry of protest over the last verse of Mr. Grinch. By the time he strolls outside with his purchase tucked safely into his coat and he’s feeling both triumphant and a smidgen guilty, it’s been far longer than he’d promised River it would be. He prepares to find her missing, probably distracted by something illegal, but when he seeks her out on the bench she’d retreated to earlier, he’s surprised to find her still there. And she has company.

 

There’s a group around River, settled on the bench beside her and crowded around her, pressing as close as they can. He might have been worried if they weren’t all such wee things – little boys and girls staring at River like she’s the Queen of bloody England.

 

Standing just outside the crowd, the Doctor watches his wife stare hesitantly at the children gathered around her, whispering about the Darillium Christmas goddess. Her eyes are wide and her face is a touch pale and when she looks up and sees him, the plea in her expression is as loud as if she’d shouted it.

 

Smirking, the Doctor stoops beside the children and listens to their chatter.

 

“Are you the Christmas goddess?” One little tot asks.

 

“Of course she is,” another answers. “She must be with hair like that.”

 

A tiny lass tugs at River’s shirt and asks, “Are you going to bless our families?”

 

“And give us lots of gifts?” Another asks, peering at her hopefully.

 

River stares at them with panic in her eyes, clearly out of her element, and the Doctor takes pity on her. “Not a Christmas goddess,” he says, offering River a grin. “But very nearly, I should think.”

 

They turn to stare at him, startled to hear such a grownup voice among them. One brave tyke ventures, “How would you know?”

 

The Doctor presses a hand to his hearts. “Well I should hope I would know whether I married a goddess or not. This time. What do I look like, a pudding brain?”

 

To his relief, they didn’t answer that particular question. Instead, they turn to River, eyeing her curiously. “You’re really not the Christmas goddess? Are you sure?”

 

River shakes her head solemnly, looking a bit more relaxed now with his help. “I’m afraid so.”

 

“But,” the Doctor says, holding up a hand before the little ones become too discouraged. “She does give the best gifts, just like a Christmas goddess. And being around her does tend to feel a bit like a blessing.”

 

Her eyes soft, River watches him fondly and doesn’t appear to notice the little lad climbing into her lap. He has the full attention of every little pair of eyes but he doesn’t want their attention. This is about River and her complete terror every time she’s ever faced with the attention of a child. His wee psychopath isn’t scared of anyone or anything unless they’re under three feet tall and then she’s utterly helpless.

 

Before, he always used to distract the children and take them away, playing with them himself while River took care of other matters – like flying a crashing ship or negotiating a peace treaty. It was easier to ignore the problem, to ignore that even though River didn’t have much experience with children she still stared at them with longing.

 

Now, however, the Doctor isn’t much for the easy path. He smiles and nods his head toward his wife, watching the children turn to stare at her again. “Looks like a goddess too, doesn’t she? It’s the hair. Go on, touch it. She won’t mind.”

 

River glares at him but the wee ones peer at her hopefully and she softens, nodding. Abruptly, there is a multitude of undoubtedly sticky little hands in her hair, petting her curls and whispering with awe.

 

“You know what?” The Doctor mutters, watching the scene with warmth in his hearts. “She looks like a goddess and acts like a goddess. Maybe she is one. What do I know?”

 

The boy on River’s lap frowns. “I thought you said she was your wife?”

 

He shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time I married a goddess. At least this time it was on purpose.”

 

River rolls her eyes, gently guiding a pair of jam hands out of a tangled curl.

 

The Doctor grins. “Go on, dear. Tell them the story.”

 

Every pair of eyes is fixed on her and to his satisfaction, she no longer looks petrified at all the pint-sized attention. Besotted and unashamed of it, he settles in to listen as River begins the long and complicated tale of their courtship. In the Doctor’s pocket her new pen waits, itching to write the rest.


	3. christmas bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s so focused on snagging a drink and getting back to the Doctor that she doesn’t notice the rustling of the tablecloth until a hand reaches out and tugs at her skirts. Her breath catches and her hand is already halfway to the knife concealed in her bodice before she recognizes those clumsy fingers. “Doctor?” 
> 
> He peeks out from beneath the table, his hair flopping into his eyes and a guilty grin on his young face. “Hello, dear. Enjoying the party?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this quickly because I'm a bit behind schedule and I haven't really had time to edit it properly so forgive any glaring mistakes. I'll fix them later:)
> 
> Prompt: River juggles two dates at the same Christmas party - 11 and 12.

The lavish ballroom glitters with splendor, food and drink overflows from the banquet table, the musicians never tire of playing a lively waltz, and every guest is dressed in their very finest. Nothing beats a Christmas party thrown by the Romanovs.

 

It’s a lovely evening, especially since the Doctor’s new body isn’t so prone to stepping on her toes when they dance. Which they do so often that River’s feet ache and her cheeks are flushed, a breathless smile curling her lips that she can’t seem to stifle. It only grows every time she looks at the Doctor and finds him staring back at her with unmistakable adoration shining in his eyes.

 

He tugs her close when she tries to lead him from the dance floor, nuzzling his face against the side of her neck. River leans into him and they sway in place in the middle of the crowd. “Darling, if we’re going to dance all night I need another drink.”

 

“Fine,” he mutters, though he doesn’t loosen his grip. “But if you see Rasputin tell him to bugger off – your dance card is already full.”

 

River pats his cheek and tries not to show her delight at his new possessiveness. “Jealous idiot.”

 

“With good reason.” The Doctor lifts his head, eyeing her. “You’ve got a habit of marrying royalty.”

 

“Oh for the love of -” She steps on his toes, gratified when he winces. “It was the _diamond_. Honestly, Doctor.”

 

“I know.” He waggles his brows. “Just like to hear you say it.”

 

He grins when she rolls her eyes, letting her slip out of his arms. “Don’t go anywhere, ridiculous man. I want another waltz when I get back.”

 

The Doctor crosses his hearts with a fingertip, smirking as he watches her turn and stride away. With an extra swing in her step, River sashays toward the refreshments, her eyes already on the punch bowl. She’s so focused on snagging a drink and getting back to the Doctor that she doesn’t notice the rustling of the tablecloth until a hand reaches out and tugs at her skirts.

 

Her breath catches and her hand is already halfway to the knife concealed in her bodice before she recognizes those clumsy fingers. “Doctor?”

 

He peeks out from beneath the table, his hair flopping into his eyes and a guilty grin on his young face. “Hello, dear. Enjoying the party?”

 

Her eyes narrow and she resists the urge to glance over her shoulder at the older version of him waiting for her. “Sweetie, what are you doing under the table?”

 

“Looking for a carnivorous poinsettia, what else?” He beams at her, scrambling out from his hiding spot and climbing to his feet. He smoothes out the creases in his suit jacket and River reaches automatically for his bowtie, straightening it dutifully. “Since you’re here, want to help? We’ll make a date of it, Doctor Song.”

 

“Professor, sweetie,” she corrects absent-mindedly, inwardly panicking. It would hardly be her first time encountering two Doctors at once – most of those adventures ended rather splendidly, to be honest – but this is different. This is spoilers. This young Doctor cannot know that there’s more to come for him – including a whole new set of faces.

 

The Doctor’s expression dims at her title but he forces another smile anyway and taps her on the nose. “Well, Professor. Care to dance?”

 

She wrinkles her nose, swatting him away. “I thought there was a carnivorous poinsettia on the loose?”

 

“Well, yes.” The Doctor scratches his cheek. “But that’s no reason not to dance with my wife, is it?”

 

Her hearts melt at his hopeful expression, his hazel eyes wide and his mouth tugging up into a grin. She never could resist that face. “I should hope not, my love,” she says, and tucks her arm into his.

 

As a much younger Doctor leads her excitedly onto the dance floor, River glances around for the older version she’d left a few minutes ago. She finds him standing just off to the side, leaning against a heavy marble pillar with his arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at River, glaring instead at his counterpart.

 

She lets the younger version of him hold her close and lead her around the room but over his shoulder, she bites her lip and meets his older self’s gaze, mouthing an apology. He shrugs and turns away, striding from the room.

 

It’s utterly ridiculous to feel guilty. He’s the same man and it’s hardly her fault he has a terrible memory and now there are two of him at the same party. And she can’t deny it’s rather nice to see the younger version of him again, despite the trouble he’s causing. He’s still a terrible dancer – not nearly as graceful as his future self, who seems to have music in his very veins this go round – but he holds her with reverence and she can hear him counting under his breath to get the steps right. It’s far too endearing to resist.

 

River lets her head fall to his shoulder and the Doctor taps his fingers against her hip, humming softly. He smells like tweed and biscuits and time and when she looks up, their eyes meet and she sees the same adoration that’s always there when he looks at her. For being such different men, they’re not so different after all.

 

“River?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you…” The Doctor licks his lips, eyeing her hesitantly. “Are you – I mean, have I made you…happy?”

 

She blinks up at him, so startled by the question she misses a step in their dance. The Doctor tightens his grip around her waist and tugs her nearer, slowing to a stop in the middle of the floor. He won’t quite meet her eyes, studying his hand on her hip instead. “Of course you do. What brought this on, honey?”

 

He shrugs, his hair slipping into his eyes. “Spoilers.”

 

She frowns, knowing that nothing he’s done can possibly be spoilers for her. “I know we haven’t done diaries yet, Doctor, but I can assure you it isn’t.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. He forces a quick grin and taps her on the nose again in an effort to distract her. “Just wondering.”

 

River allows the lie for the time being, pressing a gentle hand to his cheek. “No one could ever make me happier than you, my love.” She strokes her thumb along his cheekbone and when the Doctor glances at her hopefully, she winks. He blushes and River laughs softly, satisfied. “Wait here, all right?”

 

He frowns, letting her slip away. “Where are you going? River, we’ve got a man-eating plant to find!”

 

“It’ll keep. Back in a mo’, sweetie.”

 

She leaves him standing in the middle of the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd and following the scent of brandy and bitterness until she finds her cantankerous Time Lord in the Emperor's library, pacing like an angry god. She shuts the doors behind her and he doesn’t even wait for her to speak before he snaps, “He had his time with you. He can’t just stumble in on his ridiculous giraffe legs and take you away any time he sodding well pleases. It isn’t -”

 

“What?” She crosses her arms over her chest, lifting an eyebrow. “Fair?”

 

The Doctor deflates, turning to scowl at a row of shelves behind him. “I didn’t even remember I’d been here before until I saw you with him. For a renowned criminal, you were absolutely shit at sneaking off just now, by the way. He thinks you’re up to something – possibly smuggling the carnivorous plant he’s tracking.”

 

“Always so suspicious.” River wanders up behind him, halting his furious pacing lest he stumble right into her. She tips her head back, smirking when he scowls at her. “Can’t a girl slip away to powder her nose without her husband fearing the worst?”

 

“When you’re his wife?” The Doctor softens, studying her fondly. “Never.”

 

She sighs, straightening his cravat just as she’d done his bowtie only a few minutes ago. It might have been strange for anyone else, interacting with the same man with two different faces, but when she looks at either of them she only sees her husband. “Any ideas?”

 

The Doctor nods and the lines around his eyes tighten as he stares at her, clenching his jaw. “From what I remember, you dragged me off to some dark corner to do unspeakable things and I fell asleep. When I woke up you were gone and so was the man-eating poinsettia.”

 

“Well then,” River smiles, retrieving her lipstick from the bodice of her dress. “You take care of the plant and I’ll take care of you. Meet you back here in ten?”

 

He hesitates. “I would understand if you wanted to -”

 

“Stop trying to be magnanimous, as if you weren’t acting like a petulant child a moment ago.” River shakes her head affectionately, leaning up on her toes to kiss him. “I came here with you, darling. And you still owe me another dance.”

 

The Doctor brightens, softening all over again. “Bloody right, I do.”

 

It takes her no time at all to find his younger self and coax him back to where he’d parked the TARDIS on the balcony of the Emperor and Empress' bedchamber, promising him she would help him find the plant just as soon as he’d helped her find something first. The Doctor blushes and fidgets like he knows just what she means by that but he follows dutifully – eagerly – after her.

 

River pushes him onto the jump seat in the control room, taking a moment to smile at the old interface before she straddles his lap and takes his face in her hands. The Doctor leans up, accepting her kiss eagerly, his slender and clumsy hands resting on her thighs. River strokes his hair from his face, waiting for her lipstick to take affect.

 

“Doctor?”

 

He hums in reply, already sounding a bit drowsy.

 

“What did you mean earlier?” She leans back to study him and the Doctor blinks, struggling against the drug in his system. “Why wouldn’t I be happy with you?”

 

“I’m a rubbish husband,” he says, his voice slurring and dejected all at once. His bowtie is rumpled again and his hair keeps falling into his eyes and River has never seen him look quite so pathetic. The sight of him makes her hearts swell in her chest.

 

“We had a row,” she surmises, and when he nods miserably, she sighs. “Honey, every couple argues.”

 

“Not like we do.” He frowns, his head lolling to the side like a drunk until River takes his face in her hands and holds it up for him. “Other people fight about the telly and bills and adultery. We fight because I’m rubbish and you’re - well, you.”

 

She huffs.

 

The Doctor beams at her sloppily. “I’m going to be better next time. Promise.”

 

River strokes her fingers over his cheek. “Next time?”

 

He nods solemnly, widening his eyes. “New face. Better husband.”

 

“You don’t have more faces,” she reminds him, hating herself for the lie but knowing there is no way around it. He’s drugged right now but his memories will be perfectly intact when he sobers. “You’re on your last one, remember?”

 

The Doctor’s face falls at the reminder and River watches with a pang as his eyes water. He reaches for her face and clumsily pats at her cheek, his eyes rimmed red. “You’re stuck with me, then?”

 

River laughs softly. “I’m afraid so. But I think I’ll manage.”

 

“But River -”

 

“Hush, sweetie.” She smiles. “You’re a brilliant husband. Now go to sleep.”

 

“Sleep?” He frowns, his brow furrowing. “Hang on, River did you drug -”

 

He finally loses consciousness, slumping forward in her arms midsentence. River wraps her arms around him and closes her eyes, kissing the top of his head. “Idiot,” she whispers fondly.

 

It takes her a while to tear herself away from him, making him comfortable on the jump seat and instructing the TARDIS to look after him. With one last parting kiss to his cheek, she leaves her younger husband and goes off in search of his newest face.

 

The Doctor is waiting for her in the library, a book open on his lap and a dead carnivorous poinsettia lying at his feet. He glances up from the page he’s brooding over when she walks in, raising an eyebrow. “Tucked him in, did you?”

 

“Jealousy over your own self is unbecoming, sweetie.” River tugs his book from his hands and tosses it aside, gathering her skirts and sinking onto his lap. Startled but uncomplaining, the Doctor wraps his arms around her waist and leans into the kiss she presses to his mouth.

 

She cards her fingers through his unruly gray curls and strokes her fingertips over his brow and along his jaw, smiling against his lips when he groans. He reaches for her hair and it never fails to delight her that this version of him never wonders where to put his hands.

 

“What was that for?” He asks when they part, looking breathless but pleased.

 

“For being you,” she whispers, thinking of his younger face and the one before her now, both of them with the same love in their eyes but only one of them able to say it. “Happy Christmas, darling.”


	4. christmas bonus pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After last Christmas, when he’d acted like a bit of a pillock over two of him being at the same party, River had decided the only thing to do was to make things fair. This year, she’d give him two of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: Two Rivers + putting the sonic to good use
> 
> A bit short since I'm so behind. Sorry.

The Doctor can say many things about River Song – she can’t encounter a Sontaran and not crack a joke about potatoes, she can’t walk away from a fight without swinging, she hogs the covers at night and she never leaves him enough hot water after she showers – but he can’t say she doesn’t know how to give a fantastic Christmas gift.

 

After last Christmas, when he’d acted like a bit of a pillock over two of him being at the same party, River had decided the only thing to do was to make things fair. This year, she’d give him two of her.

 

He still can’t quite believe it, even with one of her naked and stretched out alongside him while the other straddles his thighs and teases her clit with her sonic screwdriver. There are two Rivers in his bed and this time it isn’t a hallucination brought on by her lipstick. It’s real and she’s real and there is a very real possibility this is the best Christmas he’s ever had in two thousand years.

 

He had always found River insatiable in bed but with two of her it feels like she’s everywhere at once – making him hard as a rock with her soft moans and her slick sex against his thigh, taking him between her red lips and teasing him with a flick of the sonic against his balls, kissing him until he can’t breathe and driving him to the brink only to pull back just before he makes a mess of the sheets. She smirks at him, dragging her nails down his chest while her counterpart sinks her teeth into his inner thigh. Possessive little demons, the pair of them.

 

Between the two of them, they cover every inch of his skin with enough bite marks that he’ll have to dress like a monk until they fade. Or perhaps he’ll display them proudly, wearing his shirt collar open and his sleeves rolled up to show the universe just who he belongs to.

 

They tease him mercilessly, tying him down and having their wicked way with him. They take turns sucking his cock and grinding against his face, their fingers in his hair and their taste in his mouth until the past, present, and future of the entire universe narrows down to just River Song and her lips and her hands and her wet cunt. By the time they finish – six orgasms between them and absolutely none for him which makes him suspect perhaps this had been a bit of a gift for River too – the Doctor is red-faced and panting, straining against his bonds and so hard he can’t even see straight.

 

“River,” he growls, his voice hoarse. He has no idea which one he’s talking to. Either, he supposes. Both. “Are you planning to cause regeneration by orgasm denial or are you quite through torturing the fuck out of me?”

 

“Depends,” she says, her lips both against his ear and pressing kisses along his hipbone at the same time. He shudders, gritting his teeth. “Have you decided who you’d like to have first, darling?”

 

His stomach bottoms out and his throat flexes as he swallows, nodding helplessly.

 

River smiles and her eyes are aglow with triumph at his inability to speak. “Good boy.” She tilts her head, her curls brushing her shoulder. “I’ll need the magic words first, of course.”

 

The other River lifts her head from between his legs and licks her lips, sitting beside her other self on the bed and staring at him hungrily. He’s never seen anything more beautiful than two River Songs with cheeks flushed pink with the glow of release, their hair wild and their lips swollen. Their naked skin shines with sweat and smugness as they watch him with glittering eyes. Like birds of prey sizing up their latest meal.

 

Caught in their gazes and never so happy at the prospect of being thoroughly devoured, the Doctor rasps, “Happy Christmas.”

 

Arms linked and sonic screwdrivers in hand, both Rivers smile.


	5. pond christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Rory aren’t exactly welcoming when their daughter shows up to Christmas dinner with her husband’s TARDIS and a strange old man in tow but she manages to explain herself before Rory goes for his sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Twelve gets an invitation for a Pond Christmas party that was meant for Eleven

The Doctor’s wife is a perfectionist in everything she does – from planning every last detail of a heist to the expectations she sets for her students – but it’s never more obvious than when it’s time to decorate the Christmas tree. For such a spontaneous and wild creature, River takes the whole thing surprisingly seriously.

 

The lights have to be arranged perfectly but must not be turned on until the entire tree has been decorated and the star has been placed on top. But of course the star cannot be placed on top of the tree until every ornament has been arranged to her satisfaction.

 

In his last regeneration, he would have lost his patience an hour ago and left River to decorate by herself while he went off to sulk but this new body is all too willing to endure just about anything so long as he keeps getting to stand beside her. The Doctor holds stacks of ornament boxes in his arms and patiently waits for River to adjust each one to her liking.

 

She stands back, eyes the placement with all the scrutiny of the archaeologist she is, and then either hums with satisfaction or scowls and moves the ornament somewhere more suitable. They can’t be too close together or too similar in color. No, there must be variety and proper spacing. She drives him bloody mad but it’s too adorable to warrant protest. River Song, scourge of the universe, fretting over Christmas tree ornaments.

 

The Doctor is so busy watching her frown a bright red bulb into submission that it takes him a moment longer than it should to notice the psychic paper burning a hole in his trouser pocket. Hurriedly, he sets aside the ornaments in his arms and reaches for it. It burns his fingertips and he huffs, tossing it onto the coffee table and peering down at it.

_Hurry up Raggedy Man or we’re starting Christmas without you._

_P.S. You better not show up without my daughter if you know what’s good for you_

 

He stares at the message, a lump forming in his throat.

 

“What is it?” River abandons the tree and comes up behind him, peering over his shoulder.

 

The Doctor stares at her while she reads it, admiring the tinsel caught in her hair and the reindeer socks on her feet. By the time she looks up, her eyes misty, he already feels a bit better just from gazing at her – domestic and happy and still with so much time.

 

She swallows, glancing hesitantly at Amelia Pond’s message. “What should we do?”

 

He lifts an eyebrow, plucking the tinsel from her hair. “Get in the TARDIS before your parents start without us, of course.”

 

Eyes rimmed red and a wide grin threatening to spill out and infect him too, River throws her arms around his neck and clings to him. The Doctor buries his face in her hair and bites his lip against a smile when she whispers, “Thank you.”

 

Amy and Rory aren’t exactly welcoming when their daughter shows up to Christmas dinner with her husband’s TARDIS and a strange old man in tow but she manages to explain herself before Rory goes for his sword. Amelia had hugged him when she realized and then promptly punched him on the arm – a clear sign of both her acceptance and her loss for words. Even now, she keeps eyeing him from the other side of the table as though he’s a stranger who had stolen her best mate’s identity.

 

River keeps her hand tucked into his, her thumb gliding soothingly over his knuckles until he manages to stop frowning and crack a joke about the turkey. Rory snorts into his wine glass and Amy purses her lips against a smile, her eyes crinkling with the effort to contain her amusement. “Still a great big space idiot,” she mutters fondly, and suddenly the Doctor can breathe again.

 

Dinner is much more enjoyable once he relaxes and aside from the occasional dry remark he can’t help but supply, he prefers to sit back and watch his Ponds. It’s been so long but he fits among them just as well as he always did and he supposes that’s what family means. People who love and accept you even when you turn into an old man with cross eyebrows.

 

He likes watching Amy nudge Rory, love in her eyes as she teases him. Seeing their clear devotion to one another makes it easier to think of Manhattan without a gaping hole in his chest. He likes watching River beam at her parents when they fuss over her. Seeing the gratitude in her eyes when she looks at him, like she’s thanking him for being a man strong enough to sit down at the table of people long gone, warms him down to his ancient bones.

 

“Honestly, Mum, I can’t eat another bite.” She waves away Amy’s insistence that she have another slice of pie because she can’t run from monsters on an empty stomach. “Between you and the Doctor, I won’t be able to fit into a thing.”

 

“The Doctor?” Amy casts him a disbelieving glance.

 

“He’s a worrier this go round,” River says, smiling, and he knows she likes it despite the way she always rolls her eyes at him. “Wakes me every morning with a four course spread.”

 

“Every morning?” Amy lifts an eyebrow, smirking. “Sounds domestic.”

 

The Doctor stares back at her, frowning. “And what’s wrong with that?”

 

Amy holds up her hands, ignoring Rory’s sigh beside her. “Nothing. Just, it’s all dependable and steady and – well, no offense Doctor, but very unlike you.”

 

“I can be domestic.” He crosses his arms over his chest and wonders what it is about these Pond women that make someone as old as he is want to pout like a sodding toddler. “I’m fucking fantastic at domestic.”

 

At the Ponds’ startled glances, River explains fondly, “New mouth.”

 

The Doctor ignores them. “River, tell them I’m a damned domestic god.”

 

She snorts and lays a quelling hand on his arm. “I wouldn’t go that far, darling, but you’ve certainly made improvements.” River glances at her parents and it’s with uncharacteristic shyness that she admits, “We’re… living together at the moment.” She swallows. “In a house.”

 

Amy stares, her mouth open, but Rory smiles softly at his daughter like he knows far more than he’ll ever share and simply says, “Good.”

 

Smile widening at his approval, River looks to her mother, waiting hopefully. Amy carefully sets aside her wine glass and bestows her daughter with a stern look. “Does he help with the washing up?”

 

River casts the Doctor a proud glance. “We take turns.”

 

“The cooking?”

 

“All me, actually.” The Doctor waggles his brows at his favorite ginger. “Kitchen skills elude your daughter unless a knife is involved.”

 

Looking suitably impressed but still suspicious, Amy presses, “And how long have you been…living together?”

 

Feeling a bit like a new boyfriend brought home to be mercilessly scrutinized, the Doctor answers, “Six years.”

 

Amy blinks at him. “Linear years?” At his nod and River’s quiet, content smile, she finally relaxes. Her grin is small but proud. “Good on you, Doctor. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

 

“Well,” he says, eyeing the couple sitting across the table from him. His Ponds who waited. “I learned from the best.”

 

Flushing, Amy preens.

 

“Not you, Pond,” he says, smirking. “I meant Rory.”

 

“Oi!” She picks up a bread roll and tosses it at him, laughing brightly despite herself. “You love me. There’s no hiding it with an accent like that, Raggedy Man.”

 

He scowls and River laughs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The Doctor leans into her touch, his belly and his hearts equally full, and he finally understands her obsession with perfection because this Christmas? Couldn’t be better.


	6. mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has always found his wife to be a generous woman. It’s something he has always admired about her until now - watching her weave her way through the neighborhood Christmas party with a crown of mistletoe on her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: mistletoe and jealous Doctor
> 
> And of course, my brain went right to smut. Oops.

The Doctor has always found his wife to be a generous woman. It’s something he has always admired about her until now – watching her weave her way through the neighborhood Christmas party with a crown of mistletoe on her head. She’s ever so generous in giving out kisses to those who ask, smiling and tilting her head to offer her cheek to those she doesn’t fancy and puckering up her lips for those she does.

 

He stands by the punch bowl, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face as he watches River charm everyone in her path. He’s not fool enough to believe any of them are a threat to him and he’s spent long enough with River on Darillium to be comfortably confident in just what they mean to each other but sod it, he’s a jealous old man who doesn’t want to watch his wife snog other people.

 

Abandoning the corner where he’d been sulking, the Doctor sets his jaw and goes off in search of his infuriating wife. It’s easy to locate her – just follow the trail of lovesick idiots with lipstick smudges on their mouths. He finds River in an upstairs bathroom, bending over the sink as she touches up her lipstick in the mirror.

 

Leaning against the doorway, he watches her with a frown. “Enjoying yourself?”

 

“Immensely.” She smiles, capping her lipstick and tucking it back into her cleavage. “And you, sweetie?”

 

He scowls. “I might, if my wife didn’t insist on seducing the entire guest list.”

 

“Noticed, did you?” She fluffs her hair and turns from the mirror, smirking at him. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d mellowed in your old age.”

 

He blinks at her. “Are you – were you _trying_ to make me jealous?”

 

“Of course I was, darling.” River stares at him like he’s daft for even asking. “I love it when you get all possessive.” A smile curling her lips, she steps closer and smoothes her hands down his chest, shivering playfully. “Took you long enough.”

 

The Doctor sighs, exasperated and bristling and as always, utterly besotted. “Why can’t you just say what you want?”

 

“Because.” River presses a lipstick kiss beneath his jaw and he swallows heavily. “It’s such fun watching you figure it out.”

 

Growling under his breath, the Doctor tips her head back and kisses her – hard and bruising and thorough like he can erase every other kiss she has been given tonight. With his free hand, he reaches into her curls and untangles the crown of mistletoe that has been an open invitation to the entire party. He tosses it somewhere over his shoulder and River chuckles against his mouth, low and delighted.

 

Shutting the bathroom door with his foot, the Doctor guides her with his hands on her hips, backing her into the sink. River follows his lead willingly, her hands curled tight in the collar of his coat as he lifts her up onto the sink. “Infuriating woman,” he mutters, fumbling with her skirt. “Never a dull moment -”

 

“You’d get bored,” she whispers, tipping her head back to rest against the mirror. She watches him tug up her skirt, her eyes dark and hooded, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

 

The Doctor pauses with his hands on her thighs, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “Never,” he promises, quiet and solemn and entirely at odds with the playful heat between them. “Not even once.”

 

River smiles, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Don’t fret, darling. I was only teasing.” She leans in, kissing him softly until the Doctor relaxes against her and feels his fears melt away with the warmth of her mouth. She nuzzles her nose against his, still smiling. “But it’s nice to hear.”

 

He frowns. “You just tricked me again, didn’t you?”

 

River laughs and he huffs, leaning in to kiss her quiet. She’s far from complaining, carding her fingers through his hair and wrapping a leg around his waist. She tugs him closer until their hips collide and the Doctor hisses under his breath as that hot, jealous desire licks at his insides again. It pools in his stomach and urges him onward until he’s gripping River tight enough to bruise and their kiss has devolved into something frantic and raw and messy.

 

His hands return beneath her skirt, hurriedly seeking the warmth between her thighs. River spreads her legs wider, panting against his mouth. When he finds her without knickers – nothing beneath her dress but smooth skin and slick heat – he growls and River smirks, nipping at his jaw. “Consider it an early Christmas present,” she whispers, and he snorts.

 

He can still hear the party carrying on without them downstairs, their neighbors talking and laughing and singing carols, but for the moment nothing matters more than River Song warm and eager against him and slippery silk around his hand. “I don’t think you deserve a Christmas present, do you?”

 

Her eyelids flutter and she shifts her hips, moaning softly when he applies just enough pressure against her clit to make her squirm. “Honey, please-”

 

He tuts softly, his fingertips circling teasingly. “You’ve been a very bad girl, haven’t you? Running about trying to make your poor husband jealous by snogging strangers.”

 

River glares up at him, her eyes wild and her fingers digging into his coat. “And just how many companions have you snogged?”

 

“In this body?” The Doctor pinches her inner thigh and she draws in a sharp breath. “None. And we’re not talking about me right now.” He lifts an eyebrow, smoothing his hand back up her leg and cupping her sex. “Do you think you deserve this?”

 

Biting her lip, River shakes her head once.

 

The Doctor strokes a fingertip over her clit until she twitches. “Well, you’re wrong.”

 

She peers at him wordlessly, caught between desire and confusion.

 

“You deserve everything your hearts desire, River Song.” He slips his fingers between her folds, breath catching at how wet he finds her. “Don’t ever forget that. Understood?”

 

River swallows, her eyes soft as she nods. “Yes, sweetie.”

 

“Good.” He smirks, pressing two fingers teasingly against her entrance. “Now tell me what you want.”

 

Clutching him to her, River gasps out, “You.”

 

He kisses her, swallowing her moan as he finally sinks inside her. River feels like silk, already fluttering around him wetly, and it takes all he has not to unzip his trousers and bury himself in her right then, neighbors downstairs be damned. She’s absolutely dripping, coating his fingers in her arousal. He curls them inside her and River gasps, tossing her head back and smacking it against the mirror behind her.

 

Eyes instantly falling to her exposed throat, the Doctor ducks his head. His fingers still pumping steadily into her, he licks and sucks at her neck until every bright red mark proclaims just who River Song’s kisses belong to. Her hips roll against his hand and when he adds another finger, spreading her open, River lets out a soft, keening cry that goes straight to his cock.

 

Gritting his teeth in an effort to ignore his own painful arousal, the Doctor drops his forehead to her shoulder and breathes in the scent of her perfume and the spiked eggnog she’d been drinking. River rocks down on his fingers, taking what she needs from him. “There you are,” he whispers roughly. “Just like that.”

 

Her damp thighs tremble around his forearm as he sinks his fingers inside her over and over again, gliding in and out smoothly. Every thrust brings her closer and closer to release and River isn’t shy about letting him know, releasing a high-pitched plea with every breath she takes. Her voice echoes in the bathroom, on the edge of desperate tears as she begs him _please honey please_ and he wonders if anyone can hear her.

 

The irrationally jealous part of him he’ll never be rid of when it comes to her hopes the entire damned party can hear her. Maybe then they’ll know only he gets this. They may get quick kisses and winks under the mistletoe but only the Doctor gets to see River Song trembling and begging, her thighs splayed and her lipstick smudged as she begs for him to fuck her.

 

The Doctor kisses the corner of her mouth, drinking in her guttural cries as she rocks desperately against his hand. “Mine,” he says, and his hearts soar when River nods. “Tell me.”

 

She meets his gaze, fire in her eyes and her lips parted. “ _Yours_.” Her fingers white-knuckled in his coat, River shudders as the Doctor crooks his fingers inside her just right, grinding the heel of his palm against her swollen clit. She cries out, shouting her release to the world as she comes, and the Doctor feels her pulse around him. A new rush of wetness soaks his fingers and River shakes in his arms, trembling all over.

 

“That’s it,” he rumbles against her ear, holding her to him and fucking her through it until the tremors stop and she’s limp and panting in his arms. He kisses her temple. “Good girl.”

 

Breathing harshly into his shoulder, River laughs softly. “You always say that.” She lifts her head, smirking, and the Doctor relishes the sight of her – her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark and glittering. “Even when it isn’t true.”

 

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my wee psychopath.” He grins, still holding her up as he kisses her nose. “You’re never better than when you’re very bad.”


	7. christmas surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spend their anniversary at their favorite table overlooking the towers and that’s when River hands him the box. It’s small and light and tied with a bow and the Doctor stares between it and her with trepidation. River has been odd lately – slipping out of bed early in the morning, smiling when she thinks he isn’t looking, casting their guest bedroom fond glances when she passes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Christmas timebaby

They spend their anniversary at their favorite table overlooking the towers and that’s when River hands him the box. It’s small and light and tied with a bow and the Doctor stares between it and her with trepidation. River has been odd lately – slipping out of bed early in the morning, smiling when she thinks he isn’t looking, casting their guest bedroom fond glances when she passes it.

 

He has no idea what any of it actually means but right now she’s sipping her glass of water and watching him expectantly so he sets aside his questions and focuses on right now. Another anniversary with his wife, eight years into their happily ever after. Everything else can wait.

 

At least he thinks it can, until he lifts the lid on the box and finds himself staring at a pair of small pink booties. His breath catches. His gaze flies up to meet River’s and there are tears in her eyes. He swallows thickly, dropping his head to blink resolutely at those tiny baby shoes until his eyes stop stinging. He touches his fingertips to a pink shoelace and clears his throat. “How long?”

 

“About a month but I wanted to tell you on our anniversary.” She smiles, dropping a hand to her flat stomach, and the Doctor feels his hearts clench with terror and elation. “She’ll be here on Christmas.”

 

There’s a lump in his throat the size of a small planet but he picks up a pink shoe and feels his lips twitch into a smile. “A girl? You’re sure?”

 

River nods. “I had the TARDIS do a scan last week.”

 

A daughter. He and River and a wee little girl. The Doctor blinks back tears and wonders what he had done to deserve such a gift.

 

His wife watches him hesitantly, biting her lip. “Are you happy, my love?”

 

He lifts his head, gripping the shoe in his hand as he nods and tries to speak without his voice breaking. He fails so he purses his lips tightly and nods again, reaching blindly for River’s hand. She grasps his fingers, relief shining in her bright smile.

 

-

 

Noelle Amelia Song arrives on Christmas Day, with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes and nearly as much hair as her mother. It’s blonde and curly and when she blinks her blue eyes up at him from the crook of River’s arm, the Doctor is brought to his knees. The rest of his lives belong to her now, all of his remaining regenerations wrapped tightly around her wee little pinky.

 

River stares at their daughter with fascination, her eyes fluttering in exhaustion but her smile entirely smug. “Look what we made,” she whispers. “She’s perfect.”

 

“Course she is,” the Doctor mutters, stroking a fingertip down his little girl’s nose – Amy Pond’s nose too, come to think of it. “She’s ours, isn’t she?”

 

“Quite right.” River yawns. “Never could have been anything else.”

 

With a grin, the Doctor shifts his newest love into his arms and ignores River’s sleepy protest. “Sleep, dear. She’ll still be here when you wake up.”

 

“Better be,” she warns, and there’s a smile on her face as she drifts off.

 

The Doctor cradles his little one, studying her intently. She has her mother’s regal bone structure and his expressive brow. When she puckers her lips, she reminds him faintly of his last regeneration and he knows all she’ll have to do is pout to get her way.

 

“You’ll be a right terror,” he says softly, imparting the prediction like a very special spoiler. “Just like your mother.” Noelle snuffles and her tiny fist bats at the air until the Doctor catches it in his hand, tugging gently. “Rather looking forward to it. Don’t you dare tell her, hmm? Our little secret, Song.”

 

Blue eyes fluttering shut, Noelle turns her face into his chest and the Doctor feels his hearts lodge in his throat. With his wee girl in his arms and his wife asleep beside him, the night outside their window still a deep dark blue, there is still so much time. His hearts have never felt so full.

 

He has a habit of saying it every year since their first night on Darillium but this year? He’s absolutely certain. Best Christmas ever.


	8. santa's workshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River snorts around a sip of mulled wine, curled up on the sofa as she watches the Doctor scowl at the disassembled rocking spaceship – the parts of which are scattered around him as he sits on the floor. Sonic screwdriver clutched in his hand, he glares at all the pieces as if he expects them to snap into place without his guidance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The Doctor using his sonic to make a toy for a timebaby

“Where in the buggering fuck is the fucking manual?”

 

River snorts around a sip of mulled wine, curled up on the sofa as she watches the Doctor scowl at the disassembled rocking spaceship – the parts of which are scattered around him as he sits on the floor. Sonic screwdriver clutched in his hand, he glares at all the pieces as if he expects them to snap into place without his guidance.

 

“You threw the manual out when we bought it last week, remember?” She reminds him, hiding a smile when he prods menacingly at a package of nuts and bolts with his booted foot.

 

The Doctor frowns at her. “Why would you let me do that?”

 

“Darling, I rarely _let_ you do anything.”

 

River turns back to the list open on her lap, ticking off another item. All of the gifts had been wrapped, Noelle’s stocking had been hung over the fire and stuffed with goodies. The biscuits and glass of milk had been placed on the table, along with a few carrots for the reindeer. All that’s left is for the Doctor to make himself useful and put together the very last gift.

 

Grumbling under his breath, the Doctor tosses aside his sonic screwdriver and snatches up a biscuit from the plate on the table. “If it were up to you, I’d never leave our bedroom.”

 

“Don’t be silly – who would hold my purse if you’re locked away in there?” She smirks when he glares at her, chiding, “Those biscuits are for Santa.”

 

The Doctor pops the last of the biscuit into his mouth and snaps mildly, “Well since he isn’t here to put together this fucking toy, I think I deserve it more than he does.” He abandons the disassembled toy still littering the floor, pausing to tug her list from her hands and toss it away before he joins her on the sofa.

 

River curls into his side willingly, her head on his shoulder as she stares at the twinkling lights on the tree in the corner. The ornaments aren’t quite so perfect as she prefers, since Noelle had helped decorate this year, but she loves it much more than any decorating she ever did by herself.

 

The house is quiet, only the crackling of the fire in the hearth audible. Noelle had been tucked into bed – with no less than two bedtime stories – hours ago and River knows she’ll be up early. It would be prudent to go to bed now and save herself a lot of exhaustion in the morning but the Doctor is warm against her side and his lips are in her hair and nothing at all could prevail upon her to move just yet.

 

“Why does she have all these damn toys?” The Doctor asks, still pressing kisses along her hairline. He’s terribly affectionate for such a grumpy old man. “She’s only two, for Christ’s sake.”

 

“You’re the one who built her that dollhouse,” River reminds him, casting her eyes toward the pristine pink and blue two-story doll’s house sitting beside the tree with a bow.

 

The Doctor shrugs, frowning. “She asked for one.”

 

“Sap,” she says, beaming into his shirt collar.

 

He snorts. “Like she doesn’t have you wrapped around her wee finger. And I thought, of the two of us, you were going to be the tough one.”

 

“Oh shut up.” River nudges him fondly, turning her face into his neck.

 

“Seriously, what the bloody hell happened?” The Doctor wraps his arm around her waist, ducking his head to kiss that spot beneath her ear that drives her mad. “You spoil her just as much as I do.”

 

Biting her lip, River shrugs. “I was a little orphan girl with nothing, darling. No parents, no presents, no tree. I suppose I just want Noelle to have everything.”

 

The Doctor watches her with soft eyes. “She will.” His lips brush hers and he tastes like the biscuits he’d nicked. “She does.”

 

In the morning, River wakes on the sofa – tucked into the Doctor’s side with a blanket thrown over her. Her eyes flutter open just in time to see Noelle toddling into the room in her pajamas, squealing gleefully at the fully assembled rocking spaceship in front of the tree. She looks to River, blonde curls bouncing and blue eyes wide. “Santa, Mummy?”

 

River glances at the Doctor, spotting the sonic screwdriver still clutched in his hand as he sleeps beside her, and smiles. “Something like that, poppet.”


	9. i saw mummy kissing santa claus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor in a Santa costume is a sight River has seen before – he used to delight in dressing up and delivering gifts in his last body – but it’s certainly a first for this older, grumpier version of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Twelve in a Santa suit

The Doctor in a Santa costume is a sight River has seen before – he used to delight in dressing up and delivering gifts in his last body – but it’s certainly a first for this older, grumpier version of him. Apparently, he’ll do just about anything for his little girl, even don a red suit and a beard. River finds the whole thing utterly delicious.

 

It isn’t so much the suit – all right, it is a bit – but it’s just what lengths the Doctor will go to in order to make Noelle happy. She watches him tuck her into bed, kissing her forehead and promising her that yes of course the reindeer loved the biscuits with carrots baked into them that she’d made. By the time he turns on her nightlight and shuts the door, River is rather hopelessly gone for him. As if she hadn’t been already.

 

Safely in the corridor and out of sight of his inquisitive tot, the Doctor tugs the beard from his chin and drops the hat onto River’s head with a smirk. “And what about you, River Song? Have you been a good girl this year?”

 

Shaking her head, River tugs him into her by the lapels of his red suit and murmurs, “Oh no. I’ve been very bad.”

 

“Pity,” he rumbles, his mouth brushing hers. “I was hoping to sit you on my lap.”

 

She bites her lip against a bout of embarrassingly girlish laughter, peering up at him through her lashes. “I’m sure you can make an exception,” she whispers. “Just this once.”

 

The Doctor nods, his eyes fastened on her mouth.

 

River grins. “And honey?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Leave the suit on.”

 

They end up in the living room, snogging on the sofa like a couple of teenagers. River straddles the Doctor’s lap, the Santa hat still perched atop her curls and the Doctor’s hands gripping her arse with cheeky confidence. He kisses her with such heat that it steals her breath and curls her toes but she still manages to whisper between each heady brush of their mouths.

 

“I want a new gun.”

 

“Done. What else?”

 

She laughs, threading her fingers through his hair. “A trip to ancient Philae.”

 

“After New Year’s,” he promises gruffly, his hand inching up her thigh.

 

“Jewelry?”

 

“I’ll fucking drape you in it.” He nips at her ear and River hides her face in his neck to muffle her laughter. “In fact, if you’ll just unzip these bloody trousers, I’ll give you the whole damn moon. Put it on a chain and hang it round your neck.”

 

“God, I love it when you drink eggnog.” River reaches for the button on his trousers, biting back a moan as the Doctor tugs impatiently at her knickers. “Makes you say the most delightful things -”

 

“Mummy?”

 

They both freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes. Slowly, River turns to glance over her shoulder, huffing the red hat out of her eyes and finding herself staring at her five year old daughter standing in the doorway. She shuffles her little feet and peers at them through a curtain of blonde curls.

 

“Darling,” she manages breathlessly, forcing a smile. “What are you doing out of bed?”

 

Noelle licks her lips, affecting a pout. “I got thirsty.” She peers over River’s shoulder, her small brow furrowing and her blue eyes wide. “Mummy, what are you doing with Santa?”

 

Beneath her, the Doctor snorts.

 

River shifts off his lap, making sure to knee him in the process. He hisses through his teeth and tries to smile anyway, waving at their daughter. “Santa already left, poppet. It’s just your old Dad.”

 

She frowns, crossing her arms over her chest, and River bites her lip in amusement at the clear skepticism on her cherubic face. “Why are you wearing his clothes?”

 

“Because Mummy asked me to.”

 

River elbows him – hard.

 

The Doctor scowls, glancing at her helplessly. “Because…”

 

Sighing, River takes pity on him and explains gently, “Christmas is an awful lot of work for Santa, isn’t it?” At Noelle’s grudging nod, she continues, “Daddy helped Santa deliver the gifts but he needed to wear the suit, didn’t he? And Mummy was just… helping him out of it.”

 

“Oh. OK.” She uncrosses her arms and River breathes a sigh of relief. “Can I have a glass of water now, Mummy?”

 

“Absolutely, darling.” River abandons the Doctor on the couch and moves to scoop up her little girl, carrying her into the kitchen.

 

Arms wrapped tight around her neck, Noelle asks, “Does Daddy always need help undressing?”

 

River nods solemnly, eyes sparkling as she presses a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “As you well know, Daddy needs help with nearly everything.”


	10. last christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s been planning this Christmas all year – their very last Christmas – and he’d wanted everything to be perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: Last Christmas on Darillium + Timebaby steals the TARDIS

“Sweetie, stop pacing. You’re making my trigger finger restless.”

 

He sighs, glaring out the window at the empty place in the garden where the TARDIS should be. “It’s Christmas and she damn well promised. Where the hell is she?”

 

Curled up on the sofa, a book open on her lap and a mug of tea cradled in her palm, River frowns at him over the rim of her reading glasses. “She didn’t promise so much as leave a note on the fridge, darling. Besides, you know how impulsive she can be.”

 

“Your fault,” he grumbles, fingers tapping agitatedly against the windowsill. “And the note said she would be back in time for Christmas. It’s almost midnight and we’ve spent all day fretting.”

 

“No,” River corrects him patiently. “You’ve spent all day fretting, darling. I’ve spent the day trusting our daughter and nobly refraining from strangling you.”

 

The Doctor huffs, turning from the window to eye her incredulously. “How can you be so bloody calm? Our seventeen year old daughter stole our time machine and is twelve hours later than she said she would be getting back with it!”

 

“You think I’m not worried?” River snaps her book shut and he swallows at the glare she directs his way. “Just because I’m not wearing a hole in the carpet and snapping at you every two seconds doesn’t mean I’m not worried but there isn’t anything I can do but wait.”

 

He sighs, the tension flooding out of his body and his shoulders slumping. He ruffles his hair with a hand and frowns at the floor beneath his feet. He’s been planning this Christmas all year – their very last Christmas – and he’d wanted everything to be perfect. Breakfast together and opening presents, perhaps a trip somewhere with snow to build an army of snowmen, dropping in on St. Benedict’s monastery in Italy to listen to the monks sing carols, stopping by the coronation of Liz XV to dance with his wife, and then of course arriving back on Darillium just in time to have dinner.

 

They were going to sit on the balcony and watch the sun come up.

 

His throat tightens and he grits his teeth, willing away the tears stinging his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just….”

 

River sighs quietly, setting aside her tea mug and rising from the sofa. She crosses the space between them and takes his hands in hers, squeezing lightly as she peers up at him. Her eyes are bright and sad and he has no doubt that she knows exactly why he feels like crawling out of his own skin. “It was never going to be easy, my love.”

 

He swallows, nodding wordlessly.

 

She leans up on her toes and kisses the spot beneath his jaw that always makes his eyes flutter. “It’s going to be all right, you know.”

 

He shakes his head and wants to tell her that nothing will ever be all right again after this Christmas, that nothing could possibly fill the hole she’ll leave in his hearts, but before he can manage to utter a word he hears the unmistakable sound of the TARDIS materializing. He and River both turn at once, staring out the window as the Old Girl lands in the garden.

 

“11:57,” River mutters, shaking her head.

 

The Doctor snorts. “Well, she did promise.”

 

Within seconds, their daughter stumbles out – covered in dirt, from the look of it – and races toward the house, her blonde curls bouncing against her back and a grin on her face. She throws open the door and tumbles into the house, calling out for them.

 

“Mum? Dad? Happy Christmas!” She skids to a stop in the living room doorway, the smile sliding off her face at the sight of both of her parents. Brushing the dirt off her clothes, she coughs and peers at them through a cloud of dust. “What’s the matter? Am I late?”

 

River sighs and offers the Doctor an exasperated look. “Your daughter.”

 

He ignores her, stalking toward Noelle with a scowl. “Where the hell have you been?”

 

She shrugs, wiping a smear of mud from her cheek. “Sontarans.”

 

The Doctor glances over his shoulder at River and says, “ _Your_ daughter.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Sweetie, she stole the TARDIS and went joy riding in it. Could you be a smug idiot later?”

 

“Right.” He hurriedly replaces the grin on his face with a scowl that isn’t difficult to replicate when he remembers that this isn’t just any night. This is their last night. And Noelle had spent it gallivanting around the universe with no idea that she’ll never get another Christmas with her mother. “We were going to spend today together. I had plans, for Christ’s sake. And you ruined every single one of them -”

 

Noelle holds up a tentative hand. “All right, yes. Understood. But Dad?”

 

“ _What_?”

 

She jerks a thumb at the window behind her, where the TARDIS sits in the garden. “Time machine.”

 

Smirking, River stifles a bout of laughter and wraps an arm around their disheveled daughter, kissing her cheek soundly. “You’re right, sweetie,” she says, and the two of them turn to look at him with identically smug expressions. “She’s definitely my daughter.”

 

The Doctor sighs, rendered utterly useless by the sight of both of them grinning at him like that. This isn’t the last Christmas he had imagined for them and it certainly isn’t the one he’d been planning but it’s messy and ridiculous and theirs. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“Shut it, both of you,” he grumbles, hiding a watery smile. “And get in the TARDIS.”


	11. unexpected gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Noelle goes off to university and he’s alone again, the Doctor spends weeks popping in and out of her dorm and doing all of his visits with her in a row. If she notices, she never says. They’re both struggling in their own ways to deal with the loss of River.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mistletoe + 12 + chance meeting with a younger River + lots of time since Darillium = definitely not a safe kiss for the watershed.

After Noelle goes off to university and he’s alone again, the Doctor spends weeks popping in and out of her dorm and doing all of his visits with her in a row. If she notices, she never says. They’re both struggling in their own ways to deal with the loss of River. Noelle buries her head in her studies and the Doctor clings to her, his last precious connection to his wife.

 

He’s nowhere near healing the way his daughter has but it’s somewhat of a comfort to watch her grow through the years he skips around her timeline, transforming from an angry, grief-stricken teenage girl into the content young woman with dozens of friends. The young woman who smiles when she speaks of her mother, who had chosen to follow in River’s footsteps and earn her degree in archaeology from the very same university. The Doctor had been too pleased and too proud – too emotional at the thought of River’s delighted face if she knew – to ever complain.

 

He has one last Christmas he can spend with Noelle while she’s studying on Luna – he promises himself he’ll stop after that, at least for a while – and he lands quickly, stalking toward the doors without checking the monitor. It’s too quiet on board without his wife and daughter, laughing and teasing him and bickering about where to go next. He throws open the doors and listens to the sounds of a loud Christmas party with relief.

 

Stepping out of his ship and into the crowded room – one of Luna’s gymnasiums, transformed into a winter wonderland for the occasion – the Doctor immediately begins scanning the party for his daughter. He pushes through the crowd and tunes out the Christmas carols blasting over the speakers, keeping his eyes peeled for a commotion. That’s usually where Song women tend to be.

 

For a moment, he thinks he spots her standing by herself under an archway – blonde curls, sequined party dress – but there’s something about the way this woman carries herself that isn’t Noelle at all. This woman has the posture of a soldier, an ingrained instinct that makes it impossible to relax in a crowd. His breath catches instantly. “River.”

 

She turns like she’d heard him, though he knows she couldn’t possibly over the sound of the music and everyone else nattering away. She’s far too young to recognize him and her eyes sweep right over him as she scans the room, looking for either her date or some potential threat. For all he knows, possibly one and the same.

 

He stares at her hungrily, using her inattention as an opportunity to drink her in. It’s been exactly one year, two weeks, four hours, ten minutes, and forty-three seconds since the last time he saw his wife – when she kissed him goodbye and hugged their daughter and went off to the Library. His throat tightens as he watches her, so very young and hundreds of years away from such a fate.

 

It’s very nearly too much and he almost turns away from the sight of her before he sees it – the mistletoe hanging over her head. She’s still staring somewhere across the room, glancing between something and the mistletoe. Like she’s waiting. Whoever her date is tonight, they’re clearly rubbish if they’re keeping River Song waiting for a kiss.

 

Before he even realizes it, he’s moving toward her. He’s halfway there before she looks up and spots him, her eyes narrowing as she watches him approach. Something about his expression must give her a clue because she looks him up and down with a smirk and lifts her chin, eyeing him expectantly. “Go on then.”

 

Unlike her pitiful excuse for a date, the Doctor doesn’t leave her wanting. The moment he reaches her, he takes her face – her lovely, young face – between his hands and crashes his mouth against hers, taking eagerly what the universe has freely offered him. River makes a soft noise of surprise at his enthusiasm but her eyes flutter shut and she lets him kiss her, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He tugs her against his chest, clutching her to him as he kisses her and kisses her – all tongue and teeth and hearts.

 

She tastes like vodka and cigarette smoke, like youthful indiscretions personified. It’s nothing at all like the taste he’s used to – time and honey and tea – but it’s River and he’ll not waste a moment. This may be the only one he has left. His fingertips dig into her jaw at the thought, terrifying and unwanted, but River finally untangles herself from his embrace and stumbles back a step in her heels, gaping at him.

 

Probably not every day a strange old man snogs the daylights out of her.

 

At least not an old man who _looks_ like an old man.

 

“Well,” she says, a bit breathless. He notes with smugness her flushed cheeks and her heaving chest as she lifts a hand to correct her smudged lipstick. “Happy Christmas to me then. Mind, you’re lucky my old fella didn’t see that.” She winks at him. “He gets ever so jealous.”

 

A sinking feeling in his stomach, the Doctor glances over his shoulder and finally spots the man she’s been looking for – Bowtie is meandering toward her with an oblivious grin and a swirly straw in his glass. “River,” he says, sounding giddy. “It’s a drink that tastes like custard.”

 

She rolls her eyes fondly, latching onto his arm when he reaches her.

 

Unable to help himself for the second time that night, the Doctor snaps, “You. Numpty with the giraffe legs.” His younger self squawks, his head whipping round and his eyes widening when the Doctor marches right up to him and pokes him in the chest with a pointed finger. “Be good to her.” He glares. “And believe me, I’ll know if you’re not.”

 

His younger self stares at him, brow furrowed and his hand laced through River’s. “Course I will,” he says, sounding flummoxed as he straightens his jacket and fiddles with his bowtie. “She’s my -” He pauses and glances at his wife, realizing it’s too early for her, and finishes, “River.”

 

She leans into his side with a grin, nicking his drink and sipping from the swirly straw with a grimace. The Doctor watches them canoodle and tries not to be jealous of himself. He fails utterly.

 

“Right then,” he says, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He can still taste River on his lips but she isn’t even looking at him, her eyes fixed on Bowtie like he’s the only man in the universe. “Good.”

 

It takes all the strength he possesses to tear his gaze from River, to turn on his heel and walk away from her. He does it with tears in his eyes but there’s a smile on his face too. He has a daughter to visit, after all.


	12. a christmas carol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor pushes aside the sick feeling in his gut and looks after the boy, even skipping ahead every few years along his timeline to make sure he’s all right once it becomes clear he’ll never be rid of the gem or the powers it gifted him with. It’s been absorbed into his system now, a part of him in a way the Doctor can’t help but be rather jealous of. Grant got his wish and it’s with him now, always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: twelve/river version of a christmas carol
> 
> I decided to include the latest Christmas Special, for reasons:)

  _Things end, that’s all. Everything ends and it’s always sad, but everything begins again too. And that’s always happy._

 

It takes him ages to track down the gem – the one with an onboard computer he’d planned to use to calm the time distortions around New York. It was all part of a convoluted plan involving Harmony Shoal he’d been hoping would return his wife to him but by the time he realizes he could have taken a more direct approach, it’s too late.

 

The gem gave a little boy superpowers. He’d been wary about its capabilities before but now there is little doubt in his mind it could have retrieved his wife from a computer as well. Not that it matters now. There are only five in existence. One is in little Grant’s tummy and even if he ever manages to find another one, it’ll take him years.

 

The Doctor pushes aside the sick feeling in his gut and looks after the boy, even skipping ahead every few years along his timeline to make sure he’s all right once it becomes clear he’ll never be rid of the gem or the powers it gifted him with. It’s been absorbed into his system now, a part of him in a way the Doctor can’t help but be rather jealous of. Grant got his wish and it’s with him now, always.

 

He smiles and feels like a hypocrite when he talks of being happy until he escapes from their curious, sympathetic glances and into the TARDIS. The veneer of hope slips away once he’s safely inside, melancholy wrapping around him like a thick scarf, choking him until he can’t breathe. His eyes sting and he yanks at the collar of his shirt, struggling to draw in a proper breath of air as the heavy silence of the TARDIS threatens to suffocate him.

 

Seeing the beginnings of a happy family in Grant and Lucy and baby Jennifer had made him ache in places he thought his hearts had healed over by now. How stupid he’d been. He’d had a happy family once – a wife and daughter and a little house in a little town. He misses that sense of belonging so much it damn near chokes him. He could have had it back. He could have had all of it back if he hadn’t handed over the most important gemstone in history to a child.

 

The Doctor braces his hands against the console and squeezes his eyes shut. His last chance to retrieve his wife had been swallowed by a little boy before he’d even realized what he had and his daughter is off gallivanting around the universe, the way she should be. He’s done his best to give her space to spread her own wings after coming to the realization that relying on her so heavily in his grief was selfish and River would slap him for it.

 

That was when he’d decided to extract Nardole from Hydroflax – he sure as hell wasn’t going to run around the universe with sodding Ramone. Desperate for company and terrified of being left on his own after twenty-four years of constant companionship, he’d taken Nardole with him. It isn’t the same but Nardole had known River and he’s all too understanding of the Doctor’s heartache.

 

The TARDIS doors creak open and the Doctor waits for them to shut behind Nardole before he flips a lever and sends them into the vortex. His bothersome companion hovers behind him, eyeing him uncertainly while the Doctor does his best to ignore him, fiddling with the controls.

 

“All right?” Nardole finally asks, in that tone that says he already knows the answer.

 

The Doctor grits his teeth, wondering why he even bothers asking. As Nardole inches closer, peering at him like he’s a bomb about to explode, he lies, “Always all right.” He clears his throat, staring sightlessly at the time rotor. “Where to?”

 

Nardole leans against the console and the Doctor knows he isn’t going to like whatever the man has to say just by the way he keeps his eyes fastened on his fidgeting hands. “You should go see her.”

 

He frowns. “I told you, Noelle needs time -”

 

Nardole lifts his head and there’s such bravery in that pudgy face the Doctor trails off mid sentence, staring at him. “I didn’t mean Noelle.”

 

The Doctor stiffens, pushing away from the console and rounding on his friend with narrowed eyes. “That would be very nice,” he snaps. “Except I don’t have any days left.”

 

Flinching, Nardole shakes his head. “I know that. I meant the Library.”

 

The Doctor stares at him, an angry retort lodged in his throat. “No.”

 

Nardole huffs and despite the ache between his hearts, the Doctor can’t help but notice he’s gotten just a bit more courageous in their time together. “Why not? You told me you saved her. What for if not to see her whenever you’d like? Seems a bit silly, if you ask me.”

 

Turning from him and grumbling a reply worthy of a five year old – “ _your face seems a bit silly”_ – the Doctor blinks hard at the TARDIS controls and tries to form an explanation that doesn’t sound incredibly selfish. Nothing at all comes to mind.

 

Nardole pats him on the shoulder, stifling a yawn. “I think I’ll turn in. G’night, Doctor.”

 

The Doctor stands at the controls long after Nardole has toddled off to bed, his fingers lingering over the keyboard uncertainly. Hundreds of coordinates spill through his mind and there are countless places he could go. He could visit Mechanus and wander through the jungle. He could go for a swim and find the lost city of Atlantis. He could roam the desert and help Moses lead the Jews out of Egypt, maybe play them a guitar solo a few thousand years too early.

 

He could go anywhere. Do anything. But there is only one place he longs to go. One person he wants to see. And Nardole was right. What’s the point of saving his wife if he’s never going to visit? Maybe she can use those vast resources she’s in possession of to tell him where another gemstone is, save him a few decades hunting it down himself.

 

A thousand years into the future, the Vashta Nerada have long since died off without a sustainable food source. The condemned planet had been left to rot and fall into disrepair. Nature had overtaken the lonely corridors and vines covered doors with rusty hinges. Bindings of empty books littered the floors and shelves. When the suns set, the abandoned planet falls into all-encompassing darkness and the only light for miles is the stars. The systems, however, remain online – maintained from afar by the descendants of the Lux family.

 

The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS and onto the crushed binding of A Christmas Carol whose pages had, by the look of it, long ago been consumed. His footsteps echo as he makes his way across the filthy, creaking floorboards. Out of habit, he keeps close to the light.

 

With every step closer he takes to the data core, it feels like some clumsy, determined fist is squeezing his hearts together. By the time he strokes a fingertip over the computer screen, he can barely breathe. “Rise and shine, wife,” he whispers. “I’ve come for a chat.”

 

The interface beside him shudders to life and he stumbles back a step, his hearts in his throat as he turns his head, expecting to see River’s face looking back at him. Instead, it’s a little girl with big brown eyes and a serene smile. CAL.

 

Forcing his hearts to slow, the Doctor breathes out unsteadily and clears his throat, offering the girl what he hopes is a relatively friendly expression. “Hello there.”

 

“Hello Doctor. You’ve changed your face.”

 

“And you still look like a wee girl.” He raises his brows at her, lips twitching in a smile. “What liars we are, Charlotte Lux.”

 

She giggles.

 

He shoves nervous hands into his coat pockets and asks, “Is she awake? My wife?” He ducks his head but he doesn’t miss the way CAL’s smile slides right off her face. “I’d like to see her, if you don’t mind telling her that him indoors has finally come to call.”

 

“Oh Doctor.” CAL sighs. “I thought you knew.”

 

He frowns, feeling his hearts skip and jump, frantic with sudden terror in his chest. “Knew what?”

 

“River isn’t here anymore.”

 

The Doctor blinks at her. He’s quite certain he’s gaping at her in wide-eyed horror but his face feels frozen that way, like he’ll never make another expression again. Isn’t here anymore. What does that mean? She’s gone? Just… gone? Had she deleted herself? River wouldn’t just leave. Not without saying goodbye.

 

Except she had, hadn’t she? A very long time ago for him.

 

_Goodbye, sweetie._

 

“No.” The word tumbles out of his mouth angry and sharp, a growl that makes CAL flinch. The Doctor barely notices, turning swiftly from her and rounding on the computer beside him. “You’re wrong.” He types with hands that shake, frantically searching the database for any trace of River Song. “She can’t be just -”

 

0 RESULTS YIELDED.

 

His eyes sting. He slams a fist against the keyboard and feels it crack. Sparks burn his skin and he hisses, whirling to glare at the robot interface with a child’s facade. “How can she be gone? You were supposed to keep her safe for me. For my daughter.”

 

CAL makes a soft noise of distress. “I’m sorry, Doctor. She said -”

 

“I don’t care what she said, you should have stopped her!” The Doctor blinks rapidly, working hard to swallow the lump in his throat. “She’s dead all over again.”

 

He stumbles his way blindly back to the TARDIS and while he can hear CAL calling for him, he doesn’t turn around. He slips into his ship and slams the doors behind him. He leans his weight against them and squeezes his eyes shut. Gone. She’s gone.

 

“Doctor?”

 

Before he recognizes the voice he thinks it’s Nardole and angry words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to lash out at the idiotic lump who had talked him into visiting his wife. Who had just taken away the last of his hope.

 

It takes his broken mind a moment to register who had spoken and when he does, he glances up sharply. The moment he spots his wife leaning against the console, he slams his eyes shut again. Hands clenched into fists, the Doctor brings them up to his stinging eyes and presses them into his sockets hard enough to make colors burst behind his lids. It isn’t real and he cannot afford to start seeing her ghost everywhere again. He’d barely survived it the first time.

 

He breathes deeply and drops his hands, blinking open his eyes. Colors dance at the edge of his vision like afterimages but through the haze, he can still see River. She’s still standing there, hand on her hip and blaster strapped to her thigh. A soft smile lights up her face. She looks like a vision. Some beautiful spectral a lonely old man conjured to keep him company one quiet Christmas Eve.

 

He snorts, remembering the book he’d stepped on in the Library. He’s having some sort of lucid hallucination. The final death of his wife has cracked whatever remained of his admittedly limited sanity and now he’s seeing things. Again.

 

“Are you the first one then? Ghost of Christmas past?” He pushes away from the doors and takes a step toward her, squinting. “Sorry to say, dear, but I don’t believe there’s anything you could show me that would put everything to rights again.”

 

River blinks at him, the smile slipping from her face. Her eyes narrow and under the TARDIS lights, she looks ethereal. The Doctor almost grins at her. What a charming illusion his mind has conjured. It’s much better than last time. And then her eyes gleam in that familiar way he remembers, the look that told him mischief was not far behind. Her smile returns, wider than ever. “Oh,” she says with a sigh. “Why not?”

 

He watches her sketch a little curtsy, marveling at how real her hair looks.

 

“Ghost of Christmas Past at your service, darling.”

 

“Well,” he waves a hand at her, amused despite the ache in his chest. She’s not really here. She’s gone. She’d deleted herself without a thought for the old man and the young girl who would need her – would need to know she was still out there somewhere in order to carry on. “Get on with it then.”

 

He swallows, eyeing the figment of his imagination as she whirls from him and starts to fly his TARDIS. As soon as he wakes up, he promises himself, he’ll do a head scan in the med bay.

 

River flips a lever to send them into the vortex, busily entering coordinates with a fond smile and a murmured, “Hang onto your hat, my love. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

 

-

 

To an outsider, the scene might have been one of any normal family gathered around the dinner table at Christmas but that outsider would have been wrong. It is indeed a family, but by no means a normal one. The mother and father are far too young to be so. Their daughter is older than they are but not nearly as young as she looks – she also knows thirty-seven different ways to kill a man with the turkey baster. The youngest face of the group, the man with the childlike grin as he pulls on his Christmas cracker, happens to be the oldest. One only has to look into his eyes to see it.

 

He beams at the hat he’d found inside his Christmas cracker, unfolding it carefully and turning to his wife. She eyes him over the rim of her wine glass and says, “Bring that thing anywhere near my head and you’ll be sleeping alone tonight, my love.”

 

Pouting, the Doctor hastily draws the paper hat away from his wife and settles it onto his own head instead. The smile returns quickly enough as he leans in and sniffs her glass. “River -”

 

“Absolutely not,” she says, drawing the glass away from him. “The last time you tried my wine, you spit it out all over me and ruined my dress. Just accept it, sweetie. You’re not a wine-drinker this go round.”

 

Watching them from across the table, Amy smirks and offers, “We’ve a bottle of champagne too if you want to give it a go.”

 

River grins, glancing at the Doctor with a wink. “Yes, please. Champagne makes him terribly handsy.”

 

The Doctor blushes and mutters, “River,” under his breath.

 

Next to Amy, Rory rubs at his temple and begs, “Can we not do the flirting thing?”

 

Watching the entire scene from inside the cloaked TARDIS, a much older and much wearier Doctor flicks off the monitor with a huff and turns to glare at his hallucination. “What is the point of this little exercise in insanity?”

 

River smiles, still gazing absently at the blank monitor. “There was a time when you never thought you would have a family again. But along came Amy Pond and it all fell into your lap when you least expected it.” Her eyes flick to his, green and shining with some hidden meaning she doesn’t seem willing to share just yet. “Whose to say that can’t happen again?”

 

“Because I don’t want it,” he snaps, reaching blindly for the monitor. “I had a family and no replacement slapped over the loss like a bloody plaster is going to make it better.”

 

He flicks a switch and the screen flares to life again, showing another scene entirely – that Christmas when Noelle was ten and they took her to Alaska to make snow angels. It had been a good trip that instantly became a fantastic one when snow angels devolved into a snowball fight – namely River and Noelle pummeling him with them while he ducked and cursed and tackled them into the powdery ground.

 

On the monitor, River pins him beneath her and buries her cold nose against his collar. They lie there, wrapped around each other in the snow, and watch their daughter twirl around catching snowflakes on her tongue. Their laughter fills the console room, a happy echo in the ugly emptiness left in their wake.

 

The Doctor looks away, his chest aching. He can almost feel River shivering against him, tucking her cold hands into his coat pockets to warm them. Swallowing, he raises his eyes to the apparition watching him sadly and says, “That’s what I want. That’s what I’ll never stop trying to get back.”

 

Eyes soft, River asks, “And if you never succeed?”

 

It’s not something he ever lets himself think about so he turns away from her and flicks off the monitor again. “Why are you still here? Aren’t you supposed to pass me along to some other spirit now?”

 

She tilts her head. “Would you like someone else?”

 

“ _No_.” The reply, quick and visceral, catches him by surprise. It’s ridiculous – she isn’t even real. But if he’s going to hallucinate, he’d rather hallucinate his wife than anyone else.

 

“Good,” she says, watching him with a smile. “Because I wasn’t going anywhere.”

 

Biting down on his tongue lest anything else unexpected slip out, the Doctor watches her pilot his TARDIS away from the Ponds and into the vortex. “Where are we going now?”

 

“The future,” she answers simply, her eyes gleaming.

 

He blinks at her. “You’ve skipped the present.”

 

“Darling,” she says, bestowing him with a patient look so like the River he remembers that he feels his eyes begin to sting. “You know as well as I do there is no such thing as the present – particularly to a time traveler. Everything is happening now.” She lands the TARDIS without a sound, turning to him with a flourish and a grin. “Besides, better things are ahead. I’d much rather show you that.”

 

Before he can ask her anything else or refuse to play the ridiculous game his addled mind has conjured up for a moment longer, River curls her fingers around his wrist and drags him toward the doors. The Doctor has no choice but to follow after her, stumbling out of the TARDIS and finding himself in a very familiar back garden.

 

He stops at once, staring breathlessly at the little house. “Darillium.”

 

“No flies on the Time Lord.” River tugs his hand and leads him through the back door, pressing a finger to her lips.

 

He scowls but doesn’t try to speak, glancing around. If this is the future, why are so many of Noelle’s things lying about? That’s her favorite jumper hanging on the coat rack and the pictures on the wall along the corridor are all familiar – their trip to New Paris on her sixteenth birthday, the family picnic on Asgard, that trip to Disney World in the 52nd century, one of his favorite pictures of River and wee Noelle cuddled together with a book open on their laps.

 

“Noelle lives here now.”

 

“It was the only place she wanted to be when she finally decided to settle down,” River whispers. “Now hush.”

 

“You hush.” He glares. “I will not be shushed by my own imagination.”

 

Her eyes narrow and he huffs under his breath but doesn’t dare say another word. Hallucination or not, his wife is not to be trifled with. He follows her down the corridor and they stop outside the dining room, lurking outside the doorway and just out of sight. He can hear Noelle’s voice and if he peers around River’s shoulder, he can see her too.

 

She’s instructing Nardole on how to arrange the place settings, ordering him about with the authority that she must have inherited from River. “And put the centerpiece there. Yes, that should do it. Thank you, Uncle Nardole.”

 

Preening, Nardole adjusts the last wine glass and steps back, studying the table with an appraising eye. “Erm, why are there five settings? Isn’t it just you and me and your parents for Christmas dinner?”

 

The Doctor feels his breath catch.

 

Noelle shrugs, leaning over the table to light the candles in the middle. “There’s um, someone I want to introduce them to.” Her cheeks flush. “Maybe. A bit.”

 

Nardole snorts. “If I were you, I’d make up my mind before they all get here.”

 

“Oh shut up,” she mutters, biting her lip against a smile. “I met someone, all right? She’s gorgeous and brilliant and she makes me laugh.”

 

Arching an eyebrow, Nardole prods fondly, “Got a name?”

 

A smile spreads over Noelle’s face despite her best attempts to stifle it as she answers, “She’s called Bill. And I’m almost positive my parents will love her. Dad definitely will – probably want to take her off on adventures. She’s just his type – curious and clever and stupidly brave.”

 

The Doctor stares, feeling his hearts swell despite his confusion. He’s never seen his daughter look quite so besotted. It’s a good look for her.

 

Tucking her blonde curls behind her ears, Noelle grins. “But you know how protective Mum can be. Remember that time Forest Simmons pushed me into a puddle because he had a crush on me?” She and Nardole snort with laughter. “Mum actually used her vortex manipulator to get into his room every morning for a year, just to wake him before dawn with a bucket of water.”

 

As the two of them giggle and River leans against the wall outside the room, smiling like she remembers it too, the Doctor snatches his hand from her grasp and stalks back down the corridor. His chest aches and his eyes sting and he can’t look upon this beautiful lie a second longer. He slips out of the house and stomps out into the garden, whirling when he hears River’s footsteps behind him.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Fucking insane, apparently,” he snaps.

 

She sighs. “Are you ever going to regenerate into someone less dramatic?”

 

“ _Shut up_.” He ignores her when she flinches. “River is dead. Sacrificed herself for four thousand people and then deleted herself from the mainframe keeping the last piece of her alive. She no longer exists. There is no getting her back and it’s just fucking cruel to show me things I can’t have-”

 

“Oh, you idiot.” Tears spring to her eyes and for a moment he thinks she might slap him but all she does is take his face in her hands and make him look at her. She’s just as he remembers – bright eyes and fond smile, the bump in her nose he liked to kiss. A lump forms in his throat as he stares at her but she refuses to let him pull away. “I’m right here. Just open your eyes.”

 

He shakes his head, shutting them instead. “You deleted yourself.”

 

“No, I escaped.” Her thumb strokes over his brow. “Haven’t you learned by now, darling? Nothing can hold me.” When he opens his eyes and peers at her warily, she smiles. “Except you of course.”

 

He swallows. “Only because you let me.”

 

She pats his cheek, beaming. “Good boy.”

 

The Doctor shakes his head, another protest on the tip of his tongue – she can’t be here, _she just can’t_ – the back door opens and Noelle pokes her blonde head out. Spotting them wrapped around each other, she smiles. “About time you two showed up. And can you please not shag in the garden today? It’s important.”

 

Blinking, the Doctor glances between his wife and daughter, feeling his hearts skip and pick up speed in his chest – an erratic, hopeful rhythm. “You – can you see her?”

 

Noelle stares at him. “Well of course I can see her. Mum, did you use the lipstick on him again?”

 

River shakes her head, smiling gently. “Give us a moment, would you, poppet?”

 

“Fine.” She sighs, shaking a finger at them. “But no shagging. And hurry up, there’s someone I want to tell you about.”

 

The Doctor waits until she slips back into the house and the sound of her voice calling for Nardole to watch them and ensure her no shagging rule fades into the distance before he turns and stares at his wife, a little fearfully. “You’re… real. You're really here.”

 

Smile widening, River tilts her head and waggles her fingers at him. "And the penny drops.”

 

“I don’t – how -”A slow, painful grin stretches his face and he doesn’t try to hide his eyes when they water. His hearts feel like they’re going to burst out of his chest and he laughs out loud. “You know what? Sod it.”

 

She chuckles, bright and relieved, and the Doctor catches the sound with his mouth. He cradles her against him and kisses away the taste of books and data code like he can erase it entirely. He kisses her until he can taste time and honey and the hope of _so many_ future Christmases. He kisses her until he isn’t afraid she’ll disappear if he stops.

 

When he finally rests his forehead against hers, still grinning like an idiot and quite certain he’ll never be able to wipe the expression from his face again, River beams up at him and whispers, “Happy Christmas, sweetie.”

 

And it is. The happiest.

 

_Be happy._


End file.
